Maybe It's Love?
by TypexI
Summary: Tadashi considered himself to be a generous person-always helping those around him. But when it comes to this small, broken thief, how is he supposed to respond? Not related!Hidashi


**QUE PASA?! There's a daily dose of Spanish for yah! :D**

**Sorry... anywho~! This is a new story I've decided to write. I know I haven't really worked on my ROTG story in awhile, but I honestly am not a big fan of it. I'll probably end up re-writing it, because I don't like its general format. So if you're hoping for another update, hopefully I will gain some form of inspiration for it soon!**

**Okay, so this story has kind of been running around my mind for awhile now. **

**I promise this isn't like the other ones on fanfiction. There are others I have read (and LOVED) that involve Hiro and Tadashi not being related. I am a huge fan of this concept.**

**This one is different. I promise. I haven't seen any others like it thus far. **

**I hope you enjoy~! :)**

* * *

Tadashi considered himself to be a kind-hearted person.

He did what he could for those around him, mainly his Aunt. Whether it involved doing laundry or helping out around the cafe, he was always ready to provide assistance where it was needed. When people congratulated him for his good deeds, he always gave them a bashful smile and waved their comments away, stating that it was the least he could do.

He also considered himself prepared for anything.

Anything but this.

The boy before him shifted back and forth nervously, twiddling his thumbs. His large, dark brown eyes were downcast with shame and embarrassment, refusing to meet Tadashi's own. The clothing he donned hung from his skinny frame, making him seem even smaller.

Not too long ago, Aunt Cass had stepped out of the cafe to run a few errands and left the customers in Tadashi's highly capable hands. She had been gone for approximately 30 minutes and everything had been running smoothly.

Until this kid showed up.

While Tadashi had been taking an order from a frequent customer, the boy now standing in front of him had snuck inside without his knowledge and tried to steal the container of hand soap from the restroom. Tadashi, looking up from another customer briefly, noticed the boy attempting to hide the soap beneath his shirt while making his way towards the exit.

Tadashi, in the spur of the moment, jumped the counter he was behind and yelled, "stop!", which only scared the boy into dropping the soap on the floor. The plastic top cracked off, making the soap drain onto the ground beneath it. Mrs. Stevens, a regular, happened to walk past them at that exact moment. She was oblivious to the substance on the floor and strutted right through it in her high heels, which resulted in her slipping and falling on her hip before Tadashi could catch her.

Another waiter at the cafe, who just so happened to be in the right place at the wrong time, tripped over Mrs. Stevens, dropping the entire pot of coffee he was carrying. The hot liquid flew directly onto Tadashi's brand new blue shirt, scalding him through the material. Tadashi tumbled backwards when this happened, only to fall into a glass display case filled with various cakes and cookies, making it shatter under his initial impact.

So, long story short, it had been a disaster.

Everyone turned out all right in the end. Tadashi promised Mrs. Stevens free coffee for the rest of her life and told the waiter to go home early. The display case only gave him a few minor cuts on his back and the hot coffee didn't burn his chest _too _much.

After putting one of the other waiter's in charge of cleaning up the mess and granting another his managing position for a few moments, Tadashi grabbed the kid by the arm and dragged him into the back room.

So here they stood. Tadashi had his arms crossed as he attempted to keep a level, stern look on his face.

"Would you like to tell me what you were doing with my Aunt's favorite hand soap?"

The boy jumped when he spoke, his shoulders tensing even more, but remained silent.

"I could call the cops on you." Tadashi threatened, though he wouldn't. It _was_ only a bottle of soap.

Large eyes immediately met his, "N-No! Please don't!"

Tadashi sighed and let his arms retreat to his sides.

"Then tell me why you were trying to steal _hand soap! _I mean seriously, out of everything else in this cafe, that is the last thing I thought someone would try to take! They sell it down the street at the convenience store!"

Silence filled the small space once again. The boy had directed his gaze back to the floor beneath him, making Tadashi groan.

"Come on kid, I don't have all day."

"I am _not _a kid!" The other countered, glaring at Tadashi harshly.

The taller of the two almost took a step back at his outburst. He quickly recovered from the initial shock and stood his ground once again, "Well you sure look like one, short stack."

"I'll have you know that I'm 18!"

Tadashi shook his head, "I don't believe that for a second."

"What are you, 25?" The "boy" huffed.

"I'm only 20, actually." Tadashi corrected, a smug smile on his face.

"Its not my fault I'm short, you know."

"All right, all right. Enough of this back and forth stuff," Tadashi cleared his throat, "why did you try to steal the soap?"

There was no reply to his question. Tadashi groaned and rubbed his temples. He leaned against a nearby wall next to the broom and dustpan. What was he going to do with this guy?

Suddenly he was shoved from his position near the only exit. He managed to catch himself before face planting into the floor and watched the other occupant make a break for it. Tadashi stumbled to his feet and gave chase, shouting for him to stop.

When he ran back into the cafe, the kid was gone.

Tadashi sighed.

He could only pray that Aunt Cass wouldn't freak _too _much when she returned.

She did.

Tadashi flinched when the alcohol swab made contact with his back for the fourth time.

Initially he thought she would go ballistic over the destroyed display case, or that he offered to give someone free coffee for life, but she didn't. Instead, she took one look at the small lines of blood staining the back of his shirt and immediately started spazzing out.

"How on _earth _did this happen? I was only gone for an hour! I knew I shouldn't have left you alone here, there are too many ways for you to hurt yourself—!"

"Chill Aunt Cass, this isn't the first time you've left me alone to manage the cafe."

"Well, yes, but you have never hurt yourself before! How did you manage to spill _soap _all over the floor?"

No, he hadn't ratted the kid out. The other waiters were sworn into secrecy, though most of them hadn't even noticed the small boy.

Oddly enough, the thief had yet to leave his mind, though Tadashi didn't even know his name. There was an odd feeling in his chest ever since he had him in the back room, embarrassed and quiet. When the boy's tone drastically changed, after calling him a kid, Tadashi was amazed by the confidence burning in his large, beautiful, doe-like eyes—

Tadashi mentally slapped himself. He was starting to creep himself out.

_'No way I think that little brat has beautiful eyes.' _He huffed. _'I'm probably just tired.'_

Aunt Cass gave him a concerned look.

"I'm sorry Aunt Cass. I guess I was just distracted."

She paused for a moment and released a sigh, "Its all right honey, I'm just glad no one was seriously injured. The display case and coffee pitcher can easily be replaced, and I'm sure Mrs. Stevens will be coming in at _least_ twice a day from now on."

Tadashi chuckled at her last comment.

After allowing her to place small bandages on his back and assuring her he was fine, Tadashi gave her a hug before retreating to his room.

He crawled into bed, mindful of his back, and put his hands behind his head.

Was it weird that he hoped to see the little brat again?

With this final thought, he drifted off to sleep.

Only to have his dreams filled by a certain soap-stealing kid.

* * *

Hiro rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

How long had he been in here?

Hours?

Days?

Time seemed to warp together in this confined space, since all he could see was the light from the living room peaking through beneath the door.

His back was screaming at him to shift positions, but he was unable to do anything to appease his aching muscles.

This entire day hadn't turned out so well for him.

When he woke up this morning, he found his father passed out in the living room, empty bottles littered around him. This was nothing new. Hiro had wrinkled his nose at the foul stench and carefully stepped over them before hurrying out the front door of their small apartment.

After exiting the building, he was greeted by fresh air and beautiful sunshine. He inhaled slowly and allowed his shoulders to relax.

Then he went off in search of something to eat.

He passed a bread bakery first.

The smell of freshly baked bread filled his nose, making his mouth water. He was almost tempted to press his face against the glass, but he refrained himself.

Instead, he shoved a hand into his front pocket and pulled out a few crumpled dollar bills and spare change.

He didn't have a job or any source of income, therefore he relied on what he found in between he couch cushions and his father's wallet. So, in the end, he never had very much on him.

Today seemed like his lucky day.

A large smile broke out across his face and he eagerly pushed open the door to the bakery.

The baker behind the counter smiled in his direction.

"Why hello there, what can I get you today?"

Hiro, wearing a seemingly permanent grin, replied, "I'll take a slice of Italian, please!"

The man chuckled, "That's some nice manners you got there, sonny. I'll be right back with that for you."

When the baker turned to leave, Hiro found himself jittering excitedly. He hadn't had fresh bread in a _long_ time, and he was excited to finally taste it again.

"All right, here you go."

Hiro went to hand the man his money, but a short waved stopped him.

"Just take it—on the house! I hope to see you again sometime."

This really was his lucky day.

After thanking the man numerous times, he stepped back outside and practically inhaled the bread in his hands. People passing by gave him odd looks, but he ignored them in favor of the treasure in his hands.

He almost cried when it was gone.

After he got over his initial loss, he raised his head and took in his surroundings.

He was on the East side of San Fransokyo, which was a seemingly more wealthy district in comparison to his own. The people here wore nicer clothing and the shops were more expensive. The air was cleaner, which made him inhale deeply, glad to be out of thick pollution. After feeling multiple pairs of eyes trained on him, he tugged his worn, over-sized shirt uncomfortably and made his way down the less-crowded streets. All of the people living here were so lucky. They had apartments that looked over this beautiful part of San Fransokyo, and though a few of them seemed rather stuck up, most had kind smiles on their faces as they went about their day, like they didn't have a worry in the world.

Hiro shook his head, clearing his thoughts when he caught sight of a man begging for money. He should be grateful for having a roof over his head—at least he wasn't living out in the streets.

One of his favorite cafes resided here—The Lucky Cat.

He had never met the actual owner, she was always busy baking in the back or out looking for special ingredients for her wonderful pastries.

Her doughnuts were to _die _for, and her hand-mixed chocolate milk was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

Since he received his Italian slice for free today, he would have enough for both.

He could feel himself almost shaking with excitement.

Hiro continued down the street at a faster pace, sticking small, thin hands into his pockets and humming softly. The cafe appeared up ahead and he bee-lined for it. He opened the door carefully and stepped inside, his senses overwhelmed by all of the delicious smells.

He sighed happily.

Deciding to wash his hands before this wonderful meal, he traveled into the bathroom and turned on the sink.

After squirting soap into his hands, he paused.

That smell...

His eyes widened.

It smelled just like...

A sad smile drew itself across his face as he rinsed his hands under warm water. After drying them, he proceeded to raise them to his nose and inhale deeply.

Cherry blossoms.

He couldn't stop a few tears from streaming down his face.

Images of his mother filled his mind.

Her beautiful smile and heart-warming laugh.

He breathed in shakily. So much has changed since she left.

It was over 10 years ago, when Hiro was only 7 years old. His mother was finished with her husband's careless attitude towards his low-paying job and their never ending money issues.

She left one morning, after finding Hiro in his room playing.

He remembered the helpless expression on her face as she knelt next to him, laying a delicate hand on his shoulder.

"Hiro, baby, can you give me a hug?"

He beamed up at her and jumped into her waiting arms, squeezing her tightly.

She hugged him back just as hard, burying her face into his soft hair.

"I love you sweet heart. Never forget that."

"I love you too, mommy!"

She pulled away and looked him in the eyes.

"I'll be going away for a little while Hiro, okay?"

He nodded, though confusion showed in his eyes.

"But I promise I'll be back soon."

After one last, loving kiss on his forehead, she disappeared from his life.

So much for coming back.

He shook his head, expelling those dark thoughts from his mind. He knew his mother loved him, maybe she was just taking more time than she initially thought.

She used to wear a perfume that smelled like cherry blossoms. Now, whenever he came across that particular scent, he couldn't help but think of her.

He gazed at the hand soap longingly, then picked it up and flipped it over. It was from the convenience store down the street.

_$2.99_

Hiro frowned.

That's about how much he had in his pocket, he could run down and grab some—

His stomach growled in protest, causing his frown to deepen.

"Maybe I could just take it." He muttered to himself, then shook his head. That wouldn't be right.

'But they can just get another one. Who knows when you'll come across money for a decent meal again?'

He bit his lip nervously.

He had never stolen anything—before she left, his mother used to lecture him on it, repeatedly saying that it was wrong. Stealing money from his father wasn't wrong, right? He needed it to survive.

"I don't need scented hand soap to survive..." He scorned himself.

'But it smells just like her.'

In the end, he found himself slowly exiting the bathroom with the soap beneath his shirt. It made an odd shape beneath the cotton material, but he tried to convince himself that no one would notice.

He was wrong.

"Stop!"

That's when his day went downhill.

He caused a huge accident within the cafe, all because of scented hand soap. His mother would have been disappointed in him.

When the worker there grabbed his arm and started questioning him, Hiro was unable to look him in the eyes for a long time.

When he finally glanced up, he felt his heart beat a little faster.

Feeling flustered, he shouted back at the handsome man when he called him a kid.

Then, after a short conversation, he made a break for it, no longer liking how guilty this man made him feel.

He had felt bad enough about it all ready.

After returning home, his father wasn't around, much to his relief.

Hiro lounged around for a long time, trying to make his heart stop racing.

How could one person make him feel so many different emotions?

"Stop it," he growled to himself, "you just tried to steal something! Maybe you should focus on that instead."

Then his father came home, stumbling through the front door in all of his drunken glory.

He immediately stumbled over to Hiro and grabbed the collar of his shirt.

A putrid smell filled Hiro's nose, but he fought the gagging sensation forming in the pit of his stomach.

"You look just like her." The larger man growled, slamming Hiro against the wall.

"Why do you have to look like _her_?!"

Hiro trembled in his grasp. He had tried getting out of of his father's grasp before, but the outcome only worsened. His only choice was to succumb to whatever pain he had in store for him.

Large fists wailed on his small form after throwing him to the ground, creating dark bruises all over his body.

He cried silently.

When his father was finished, he grabbed him by the hair and dragged him to an all-too familiar closet.

He was thrown into it harshly, and watched his father stand in the closet's door frame, panting like a crazed animal.

Then the door was slammed shut and locked.

* * *

**So? What did you guys think?**

**Was it a little too dark, or do you like the story line? Like I said before, this idea has been in my brain for a REALLY long time. **

**I know stealing hand soap is kind of dumb, but what else could he steal from the bakery that would remind him of his mother? A cookie? I wouldn't be able to create such a huge incident with a cookie... but then again, I don't think soap would create all of that chaos either. **

**Oh well.**

**Please leave a review and share your thoughts with me :) I would love your feedback! **

**~Esa**


End file.
